


Netflix and Chill

by shesasurvivor (starkist)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, everlark, mores2sl, mores2sl fall 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:53:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9423593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkist/pseuds/shesasurvivor
Summary: Katniss Everdeen works three jobs, and is a full time student. She really needs to learn how to chill–and Peeta Mellark knows how to help. Modern Day AU. Written for the Fall 2016 MoreS2SL fundraiser.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to bigbigbigday006/feeding_geese and DandelionLass for the pre-reading & beta help, and to bigbigbigday006 for the banner.
> 
> If you're interested in MoreS2SL, it's a charity drive meant to raise money to fight childhood cancer. If you're like more interested, please check out the website, ms2sl(.)com, or their Tumblr, mores2sl(.)tumblr(.)com.

 

“I didn’t know you worked here too,” he says, tripping over his words as the alcohol causes his speech to slur together.

 

“Well, I do,” I say, maybe a little too defensively. I turn away from him, frowning down at the group of half-empty glasses as I begin to gather them up. Why is this making me so uncomfortable? I just know that I wish he would go away, act like he never saw me. We could forget about this night all together. 

 

“So you have two jobs?” he asks. To my irritation, he follows me as I head across the room over to the bussing station. I was hoping he might take a hint and leave me alone, but no. Not Peeta Mellark.

 

“I have more than two jobs,” I admit, feeling too annoyed to really care. But immediately I regret this admission, because I can tell it only piques his curiosity further.

 

“Wow,” he says, his voice quiet and full of awe. “And you go to school. How do you do it all?”

 

“I just do,” I tell him curtly, before I turn away and slip through the swinging doors that lead to the kitchen, where I know I really will be able to escape from him. There’s no way he’d actually follow me all the way back here.

 

I’m right. When I glance over my shoulder, just to be sure, I see that I’m finally alone. Good. As I stand in front of a sink to wash my hands, I can’t help wondering why he would be so interested. He’s never bothered to ask me those questions before, and he’s had plenty of time to do so. So why is he so interested all of a sudden?

* * *

 

_ The job isn’t what I expected, but it could be a lot worse. I could be forced to strip or something, like some of the girls I’ve heard about back home. I’m not really sure I’ll fit in, though. After all, fish aren’t really my thing. _

 

_ Wait, that’s not entirely true. I do like fish. When they come from a river, or a lake, or even an ocean. Fish are for eating, as far as I’m concerned, and not so much for looking at, let alone keeping as pets. But, I realize I’m in the minority feeling that way. Most people like them. Of course, most people were lucky to have a goldfish or a betta or something, growing up. I was lucky just to get a tuna sandwich, sometimes. _

 

_ That’s why, as weird as I think it is to own fish for pets, I can’t really complain about working in this aquarium store. I’m incredibly fortunate to have landed this job. It’s not like I have to do much with the fish, either. I’m just here to man the register. I leave the fish stuff to the owner, Finnick Odair, and his wife, Annie. They were the ones nice enough to give me this job. Sure, my counselor at school recommended it to me, and it helps that they are both alumni of Panem State, where I go to school, but there was plenty of interest in the job. _

 

_ Across the way, I watch Finnick as he dips a plastic bag into one of the tanks, a freshwater one full of some kind of tetra -- what kind, I don’t know, but apparently there is more than one kind. I didn’t even know what a tetra was before I started here, so at least I’ve made some sort of progress. _

 

_ A kid dances around, excited for the fish Finnick selects. His mother then takes the bag after Finnick has tied it shut, the fish now secured safely inside. The fish is clearly for the boy’s aquarium and I hear Finnick give his spiel about proper care. _

 

_ “Remember, they’re living creatures,” he says, grinning down at the boy. “Not decorations. Be sure to feed it and keep its water clean.” _

 

_ “Okay,” the boy says. He seems to barely register Finnick’s words, but his mother glances at my boss and they exchange an amused smile.  _

 

_ “We’ll take care of him,” she promises. Finnick walks them over to me to pay. _

 

_ As they set the bag on the counter,, another customer comes in the store. Finnick excuses himself to help them, promising the mother and child that they’re in good hands with me. Yeah, unless they have any other questions about the fish I know nothing about. Fortunately, they seem to have gotten all their questions answered earlier, because they pay and are on their way. _

 

_ Bored, my eyes fall back on Finnick and his new customer. It’s someone looking to set up a brand new tank, judging by the way Finnick gives him a tour of the aquariums we keep in stock, the filters each one would need, heaters, substrate, and everything else. It’s almost a form of entertainment in itself to watch Finnick at work. It’s clear this customer wasn’t looking for anything major, maybe a 10-gallon or something, but Finnick knows so much, and can be so charming, the next thing I know, she’s standing at my counter with a 30-gallon tank. _

 

_ “Remember what I said about cycling it,” Finnick tells her. “You don’t need fish to do it. Simple janitor’s ammonia will do the trick.” _

 

_ “What about the gravel?” the lady asks him. “Can someone help me carry that?” _

 

_ “Of course,” Finnick says with a smile. Looking over his corner, he calls out. “Peeta!” _

 

_ From somewhere towards the back of the store, an area obstructed from view by a row of tanks, I hear heavy footsteps. A moment later, a blond boy, the same age as me, steps into view and gives the lady a friendly smile. _

 

_ “Peeta would be happy to help you take these to your car,” Finnick assures her as Peeta lifts the heavy bag and hoists it over his broad shoulder. It’s an impressive feat to watch. I couldn’t move a bag of gravel that size at all. Peeta goes to the same school I do, I’ve seen him around. He’s on the wrestling team, and no doubt works out to keep his muscle strength up. _

 

_ As the woman finishes paying, and leads Peeta out the store, his blue eyes catch mine for just a second. He gives me an easy smile. I drop my eyes. _

* * *

 

There aren’t many places around where I can take a break. There isn’t really a break room--just a small room with a couple of lockers where we can leave our stuff. It’s not big enough to sit in. Most of the others will take a seat in a quiet corner of the restaurant, but there are no quiet corners here tonight. Not with the university’s wrestling team celebrating its championship. Besides, I’d just as soon go someplace a little more quiet.

 

That’s how I find myself standing on a curb outside. The night is warm and the fresh air is sweet, especially after being cooped up in a stuffy kitchen for half the night. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, relishing in these brief moments of freedom, some of the very few I ever get.

 

“Hey,” a voice says from behind me.

 

I nearly jump out of my skin. I’m not exactly hidden, and technically this is a public area, but everyone is so tied up with what’s happening inside, it's so deserted it may as well have been private. Turning, I come face to face with Peeta Mellark. I try not to convey how annoyed I really feel seeing him standing here.

 

“You came out here, too,” My voice is flat. But if Peeta can detect my hostility, he doesn’t show it.

 

“Yeah,” he says. “I sa- Um, I just wanted to get away for a bit, and saw you out here, so… “

 

I raise an eyebrow. Somehow, I know that isn’t the whole truth, but I don’t say anything. 

 

“So. You on break or something?” he asks.

 

“Yeah.” I shift my balance to the other foot, looking awkwardly across the street as I pretend to be examining the store on the other side.

 

“Um… so, what a coincidence, huh? You and me both being here.”

 

“Yeah,” I force a fake-sounding laugh. 

 

“So how many jobs do you have?” He asks.

 

“Three. Four, if you count school,” I say.

 

“Wow. Do you ever get a break?” He asks.

 

“Not really,” I shake my head.

 

There’s a silence, before Peeta speaks again. “You have one now,” he says. Yes, thank you for pointing out the obvious.

 

“It’s not much of one,” I say.

 

Another pause. “It could be,” he says. “Do you want to come have a drink with us?”

 

I make a face. What kind of a question is that? Of course I can’t have a drink. Haymitch would kill me if he caught me doing anything of the sort. Not that he’s one to speak, considering how often we’re convinced he drinks on the job himself. But still. When you’re the boss you can do those things - not so much when you’re just a server. “I can’t. I’d get in trouble if I drank when I was supposed to be working. Especially if I drank with the customers,” I explain.

 

He glances over his shoulder, a thoughtful look on his face. “Wait here,” he instructs.

 

I’m left alone for a few more blissful moments. Then Peeta returns, a glass of something in each hand. “Here,” he offers one of them to me.

 

I just look at it, before cautiously taking it in my hand. “What is this?” I know it has to be some sort of spirit. But what kind?

 

“Vodka,” he smiles. “And coke. So it looks like you’re just drinking a soda if anyone comes out.” He must see the hesitant expression on my face, because then he adds, “We can go someplace else, if you’re nervous about drinking it right here.”

 

What should I say? Yes? No? I’m at a loss, but I find myself nodding slowly and then following him equally as slowly as we walk around to the shadowy back of the building.

 

“Do you always encourage irresponsible drinking?” I hear myself ask.

 

“No,” he says, glancing back at me with a smile. “I can just tell you really need a moment to chill.”

 

Well, there’s no good response to that. Because even though I know I’m not supposed to do this, I can feel every part of my being begging for this, for a chance to just relax. To  _ chill _ , just as Peeta said. So I disappear into the shadows with him, and allow myself to indulge in the drink. Ten minutes later, I find myself actually giggling at his stupid jokes that neither of us would find funny if we were in our right minds. We’re obviously anything but.

At a lull in the conversation, Peeta’s blue eyes look me over and, for some reason, I feel my cheeks grow warm. I brush it off as being the alcohol.

 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. 

 

I freeze in place. The question has caught me off guard. Kiss me? Wha- what does that mean? My mind seems to speed up and fog over all at the same time. I know  that I know what he’s asking… but for some reason, I can’t understand it.

 

A mere few inches away from my face, Peeta stands, looking every bit as frozen as I feel. I can tell he didn’t mean to say what he did, that was something his intoxicated mind accidentally let slip out, the product of his lowered guard. This is why I usually don’t touch the stuff. But even though I’ve had considerably less tonight than he has, I still can’t make any sense out of what’s happening right now. 

 

“Uh-- never mind,” he stammers, tearing those blue eyes of his away. “That was stupid.”

 

“No.” It comes out of my mouth without permission. It’s only after the word has escaped does comprehension begin to sink it. Kiss.  _ Me.  _ Peeta wants to kiss me. What am I doing? This is the last place I should be right now. For one, I’m supposed to be working, not fraternizing with the clientele, and definitely not sneaking off to have a drink with them. I can only imagine how much trouble I’ll be in if my boss finds out. And two, I’m not the kind of girl that guys like Peeta Mellark go around kissing.

 

Peeta is so surprised, he looks back to me. “It’s… not stupid? You’d let me kiss you?”

 

“Okay.” No! What am I doing? Why am I going along with this?

 

He turns so that he stands square with me. He brings an arm up, and softly places it under my chin, gently lifting it up so that I’m forced to look him straight in the eyes. There will be no misunderstanding between us. “Then you’ll allow it?” He murmurs, looking as if this were too good to be true.

 

_ It is, _ I think. Of course it is. Somewhere in my mind, a voice, my logical side, is screaming at me to put an end to this. But now that I’m here, my eyes locked with his, something comes over me. I feel unexpected warmth rush through me; feel myself blush just from the mere eye contact. It’s so stupid, but… my breath catches, stopping the thought in its tracks. “I’ll allow it,” I mutter back.

 

He pauses, maybe to think this over, or maybe just because he isn’t sure he heard me correctly. I’m not sure I heard myself correctly, but before I have a chance to second guess it, his lips, so heated and soft, meet mine. 

 

The warmth I’d felt a moment ago intensifies, flaring up until it spreads to the very tips of my being. And there’s something else, too, something like lightning that sends its electric spark straight down my spine until I feel it in a place I’m almost too embarrassed to admit. 

 

Peeta’s hand moves from its place under my chin, and slides up so it cups my cheek. His other hands rises, and does the same to the opposite side, and I actually hear myself sigh as he brings us deeper into the kiss. He tastes like a mash of the dishes we’ve served tonight for the party, with a healthy dose of beer. I have to fight the urge to laugh at this. It’s not that I’d find anything wrong with this. It’s just that, you’d think a guy like Peeta would taste of something else. Cinnamon, or maybe one of those “macho” body fragrances other rich boys like to douse in. It’s just so innocent, so unassuming that he tastes like fondue and smells like musk, that it makes me feel lighter just thinking about it. 

 

It’s not me who breaks the kiss. Peeta pulls away first, still suckling on my lower lip as he slowly releases it from between his own. His eyes flutter open, dark and drunk, whether with alcohol or lust I’m not sure. Then a grin spreads across his face.

 

“What?” He asks with a laugh.

 

My brows wrinkle. “What, what? I mean, what do you mean?” I stumble over my words, feeling embarrassed. I can barely put two coherent thoughts together, that’s how much my mind is reeling right now. It makes the me from a few minutes ago look like a contender for a Nobel Prize, compared to right now.

 

“You’re smiling,” he says, his own still plastered on his face. He strokes my hair away from my eyes. “Like you’re about to laugh. Is something funny?”

 

“No. Just, I- No, I just. Liked it?” I cringe at my own word vomit. But Peeta only seems to find it endearing. 

 

“So did I,” he says. Then he leans back in, and takes my lip between his again.

 

Peeta’s kiss does something to me that I can’t quite explain. I’m still not sure why I’m doing this, why we’re doing this. As he snakes an arm around my waist, I want nothing more to forget everything, to stop questioning it and let my body do my thinking for me. 

 

I’ve only kissed one other guy in my life - my ex-boyfriend, Gale. We were friends, first, then our feelings grew. Or, I thought they did. It turned out he felt more for me than I did him, though. Needless to say, we broke up. That was when I figured romance wasn’t for me. I’m better off alone than hurting someone else, if I’m so incapable of feeling something. 

 

Which is why this has me so confused now. Because Peeta’s kiss… it makes something stir inside of me. It’s not something I can understand, and all of sudden the whole thing--remembering Gale, the kiss, how very close to Peeta’s body I am, the way he tastes and smells--becomes too overwhelming to process, that I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from my throat, breaking us apart the second time.

 

Peeta looks surprised at first, then smiles when he sees my face. “Something  _ is  _ funny,” he says. A gentle request. What’s making me laugh?

 

I can’t tell him. It would only hurt his feelings, to tell him the way he tastes is funny to me. “Nothing,” I say. Suddenly, I feel extraordinarily awkward. I drop my eyes, glancing back towards the party, then, up, over to the opposite side, and back to the party. Anywhere except for at him.

 

“Um… I should probably go. I need to get back to work,” I say, knowing full well how unconvincing it sounds. 

 

“Oh. Right. Of course,” Peeta says. He release me from his embrace, and I take a step to brace myself. 

 

“I’ll, um, see you at work tomorrow,” I say as I walk away, not looking back. It sounds horrible, I know it does. Like we’re two co-workers who can barely stand each other, when a mere few minutes ago  I was pressed against Peeta’s strong body, feeling the warmth of his body heat as his lips locked with mine. 

 

Well, how else did I expect this to end? Serves me right, messing around when I’m supposed to be working. It’s so unlike me to ever do anything like this at all. The more distance I put between myself and Peeta Mellark, the more I can’t help wondering what came over me back there. I’m tempted to glance back over my shoulder at him, as though that would somehow explain things, but I know better than to do that. It would only make things worse.

 

I jump right back into my duties the second I make it back to the party. I try not to pay too close attention, but I do notice when Peeta slinks back in a few minutes later. He doesn’t look at me; he only goes right back to his friends and begins laughing uproariously at something one of them is saying.

 

I feel something bristle inside me. I was right, then, to put a stop to things. Clearly the kisses hadn’t meant anything to Peeta, anyway. I was there, and he was drunk. He was looking for a bit of fun, that’s all.

 

Well, I don’t have time to have fun. Peeta is just going to have to find someone else next time. I steal another glance, hoping he won’t see. Then I remember it doesn’t matter if he does, if it was nothing more than a fun way to pass the time at a party for him. 

 

Still, as I watch him, sitting a bit off from his friends as he watches them dancing around, I can’t help feeling a bit nauseous when I think about it. But why? I knew from the start what Peeta was looking for. Even if I was fooled into thinking for a moment that it was something else. 

 

And that’s when I figure it out. It isn’t just nausea that I’m feeling. There’s something else there, too. Something I feel so stupid for feeling at all.

 

I feel disappointed.

 

* * *

 

It’s three whole days before I see Peeta Mellark again. He has the day after the party off.  _ Probably to nurse that hangover,  _ I think bitterly to myself as I ring up one woman’s tetras. The next two days are my own days off from the fish store.

 

The fourth day, I know there will be no escaping him. I stand as long as I possibly can, putting off actually entering the store until I can’t put it off any longer, or I’d be late clocking in. I brace myself, take a deep breath, and push the door open. I try to keep my eyes focused directly on my path ahead of me, going straight for the back, to the time clock. I’m safe back here. No one else is around. 

 

I stand at the door leading back out to the floor for another minute, before I force myself to go through.  _ You’re going to have to face him sooner or later.  _ It’s just that I would rather it be as later as possible. 

 

When I finally find Finnick and begin chatting to him about what duties are in store for me today, I finally feel safe to take a look around. To my surprise, Peeta is nowhere in sight. I wonder if maybe he’s just hidden from view, concealed by another row of fish tanks. If he is, I don’t hear him. I try to furtively glance around the store to see if I can suss out where he is. For all my agonizing over our next meeting, I actually feel… annoyed. I’m annoyed that he isn’t here. I mean, I worked myself into a tizzy for nothing. I sigh, and head up to the register to take my place.

 

Several minutes pass. There are no customers at the moment, so I busy myself cleaning out the desk where the register is seated. I’m just about to give in and actually ask Johanna, who is cleaning tanks nearby, if she knows where he is, when the door opens and I catch sight of his blond hair, glinting in the sunlight.

 

Immediately, I look away in a panic. I don’t know what to do. Looking away as abruptly as I did obviously wasn’t the smoothest way to react, but I barely had any control over that. I’ve gone over in my head over and over what I would say, how I would act the next time that I saw Peeta, but now that he’s here, and this is actually happening, nothing I practiced feels right.

 

Fortunately, if Peeta noticed, he doesn’t say anything. I hear him chatting with Finnick--apparently he was helping another customer take their new 100 gallon all the way to their house. It’s a bit much, if you ask me, but I can already tell it’s been a quiet day around here, and Finnick likes to go that extra mile if he can. Of course he would send Peeta all the way to a customer’s house to deliver a tank. Especially when it was one of our more expensive ones.

 

Then there’s silence. I’m almost too afraid to look up and find out what’s going on, so I remain focused on what I’m doing. When I finally do dare to glance up, two eyes are staring back at me. But they aren’t Peeta’s blue eyes. They belong to Johanna.

 

“What?” I ask a little too defensively. Johanna and I have never exactly been friends, so my gruffness shouldn’t be too much of a surprise for her. Still, even I can tell it was a little too much for the situation.

 

“What was  _ that _ about?” she asks.

 

“What do you mean?” I make sure I sound a little more friendly this time. Only now I hope I haven’t swung too far to the other direction. Because that would give things away that something is up, too.

 

“Oh, just the way you practically fell all over yourself to avoid having to interact with Peeta just now. Or even look at him.”

 

I’m at a loss on how to respond. I’m a little taken aback that someone even noticed. Was I really that obvious? Because if I was, and Johanna saw it, then that means Peeta surely saw it as well. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell her, though I know she’ll never buy it.

 

She sets her cleaning tools down, and crosses over to the counter, resting on one arm as she leans across the counter so that she’s only a couple of inches away from me. “Brainless,” she says, a grin slowly spreading across her face. “Do you have a crush on the delivery boy?”

 

“What? No! And he’s not a delivery boy!” I feel my cheeks burning hot; I look away as fast as I can and concentrate on the cleaning.

 

I hear Johanna give a sharp bark of laughter. “Whatever you say, Brainless. But you sure were quick to correct me there.”

 

I drop my eyes; even I have to admit she’s got me there. “It’s just not what he is,” I mumble, but it’s not very convincing. Fortunately, we’re interrupted before Johanna has a chance to get another jab in at my expense. Unfortunately, it’s from the very same guy in question.

 

Peeta comes from around the corner, holding a bag of substrate in his arms. Immediately, I feel panic boiling up from inside me--how much of our conversation did he hear? All of it? Part of it? This is the last thing I need right now, for Peeta Mellark to think I actually have any real feelings for him. Last night was a fluke, a mistake. Something I never should have allowed to happen, no matter how fun parts of it might have been. 

 

Fortunately, it doesn’t seem like Peeta overheard anything. His blue eyes dart back and forth between us the way they would when you’re taken by surprise by someone you didn’t realize would be there. “Hey, Johanna,” he says casually, nodding to her.

 

“What’s up, Peeta?” she answers. 

 

He just shrugs. “Same old,” he tells her. Then, finally, he turns and acknowledges me. “Hey, Katniss.”

 

“Hey.” Somehow I manage to get it out smoothly, more or less. But it’s stiff. It takes all my effort to force myself to look him in the eyes, to try and act like I normally would. Because Johanna can’t know what happened. 

 

For a minute, he looks as though he wants to say more. If he does, however, he thinks better of it, because he just deposits the bag of gravel on the counter. “It’s for a customer. They’ll be up in a minute,” he says. I just nod. Then there’s another awkward moment of silence, before he nods himself. “Well, see you,” he says, then returns back to the depths of the store.

 

I busy myself, trying to move the bag out of the way of any other customer that may come up to purchase anything. Anything to keep from having to face Johanna, because I can just feel her barely containing her laughter. 

 

“Well, THAT was awkward,” he says. “You DO like him!”

 

“No!” I protest. “We jus- “ and then I stop myself, because I realize what I’m about to reveal to her. Only it’s too late. Glancing up at her, I see I now have Johanna’s full attention. I can tell by the look on her face she knows something is up. She leans forward.

 

“You what?” she asks with a grin.

 

“Nothing!” I turn away from her.

 

“That wasn’t nothing. Something happened between the two of you.”

 

“Nothing happened,” I insist, my voice firm.

 

Johanna’s quiet for a moment. Then, in a much louder voice than is really necessary. “Nothing happened? You’re just in love with him then.”

 

“Johanna!” I glance around, hoping against hope that no one heard that. Then I sigh, because Johanna’s got me at a stalemate. Either I tell her about my… time with Peeta the other night, or she makes him mistakenly believe that I actually have a thing for him.

 

“Fine.” I drop my voice so that I’m speaking just barely above a whisper. “You know I have that other job working as a server from Capitol Catering?” She nods. “Well, the other night we ended up catering to a party for the wrestling team at school. And Peeta is on the wrestling team. He cornered me when he recognized me, and asked me to… to have a drink with him,” I explain, beginning to feel uncomfortable just saying out loud how I broke the rules. 

 

“And you did?” Johanna asks.

 

I don’t want to confirm it, but I’ve already come this far in the story. The rest of it wouldn’t make sense if I left it out.

 

“That’s it?” she asks. “That’s why things are so awkward between you two? Because you shared one drink?” She bursts out laughing. “You really are too pure!”

 

“No!” I say a little too loudly. “I mean… no, that’s- that’s not all.” 

 

Now I have her attention. “Go on,” she urges me.

 

“Well… um… we might have actually had a few drinks together. And then we… um, thenwekissed.”

 

I can tell by her body language and the look on her face that she heard me just fine. Even so, just to be completely annoying she asks, “What did you say?”

 

I sigh, wanting to disappear, melt into the floor and slip away. To be anywhere except right here having this conversation right now. I said… and then we kissed.” I tell her more clearly.

 

I brace myself for her response. I’m really not sure what to expect--riotous laughter, maybe. I’m not ready for the dead silence that follows my announcement. Right away, I know that can’t be a good sign. I force myself to look over at her, and sure enough, she’s just sitting there, an evil grin plastered across her face.

 

“Oh, this is just  _ delicious, _ ” she says wickedly. “You actually went so far as to  _ kiss _ him?”

 

“I was drunk!” I insist, feeling defensive. I look down at my hands. Help.

 

“You?” she asks. “I doubt you were that drunk.”

 

“What are you saying?” I ask, though I already dread hearing her response.

 

“It’s obvious. You do like him.”

 

Now I just shoot her a glare, because it’s about the only thing I feel I can manage that wouldn’t betray me any strength against her. “I was just drunk! You do stuff you don’t mean all the time when you’re drunk!”

 

“Sure. I do,” she says, motioning towards herself. “But I do stuff like that. You’re you.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” My glare is really working itself today, I think as I shoot another one in her direction.

 

“You don’t kiss guys when you’re drunk just for the hell of it,” she explains. “You’re Miss Pure. You’re the type who would only kiss a guy because she actually has feelings for him.” She wrinkles her face in disgust at that last part.

 

“Well, this time I do. Did, I mean,” I insist firmly, while also mentally kicking myself for getting my tongue tied on that sentence. Now is not the time to look anything less than absolute.

 

Johanna opens her mouth to retort, but right then, Finnick rounds the corner with a customer, walking them up to my desk in order for me to ring them up. I grasp onto this immediately, relieved for the distraction, and feeling even more so when I see out of the corner of my eye that Johanna has lost interest and moved on, going back to her tank maintenance. My relief is short-lived, however, when - of course - Finnick has Peeta help the customer out to their car, carrying their purchase.

 

As they exit the shop and Finnick returns to the floor to help someone else, I turn back to my own duties, taking care to avoid Johanna’s gaze. It works, at least for the time being. Then I hear the door to the shop open as someone comes in, and I know it must be Peeta returning. Who else would it be? Okay, that’s silly question. Of course, it could just as easily be another customer coming in. But somehow, I just know it’s Peeta.

 

My suspicions are confirmed when I hear Johanna sing out in a joking voice, “Oh, Peeta! I heard you and Katniss went to the same party the other night!”

 

I freeze in place and clench my eyes shut. Damn it, Johanna! I should have known better than to trust her with information like this. I should have known she would go straight to Peeta about it, just to give me a hard time. She hates me. So why would she do anything else?

 

It takes a terse moment of silence for me to realize that Peeta has yet to respond. It’s like I can feel the tension in the air, without even having to look at him. When he finally does respond, though, he manages to come across as nothing more than conversational. “Um, yeah. She was at the same place as my wrestling party.”

 

“Oh, that must have been so much fun for you,” she says pointedly.

 

“It was cool, yeah.” I don’t know how he does it. But Peeta manages to make it seem entirely like it was nothing more than two strangers bumping into each other with a nonthreatening hello. Johanna attempts to bait him a few more times, but he manages to dodge her insinuations with ease. I don’t know if I should feel grateful to him for trying to cover… or insulted.

 

Either way, once he’s managed to fend her off, I realize my worst nightmare has come true: Johanna has left me to face him myself. No matter what a pain she was being, I realize, I was was still glad she was there to provide a buffer between us. But now I’m going to have to face the music.

 

What do I do? Should I smile at him? Ignore him? Act as though nothing happened at all between us? But it’s Peeta who makes the first move.

 

Clearing his throat, he starts. “Listen, Katniss… About the other night… “

 

Suddenly I’m loudly moving things around on the desk. I don’t even really know what I’m trying to do, only that I know I don’t really want to hear whatever Peeta Mellark is about to say. Somehow, I just know I’m going to feel insulted no matter how nice he might try to frame it.

 

“Katniss?” he asks, straining to be heard over the noise I’m making.

 

“Huh?” I look over at him, acting startled. I can tell he doesn’t buy it.

 

“Um… “ He studies me a minute. “I, just… do you want to come over to my place Saturday night?”

 

My movements come to a stop, and in the silence that follows I can feel Peeta’s own shock radiating from his being. I don’t think this is how either one of us expected this conversation to go. He watches me closely, now, his mouth still hanging slightly open in disbelief at his own words.

 

“Oh. Um… “ Now I have to search for the right thing to say. It’s obvious he didn’t mean to invite me over, which means that the last thing I should do right now is say yes. “No, that’s okay.” I look down at my cleaning.

 

There’s another pause, then Peeta seems to wake up from his stupor. “No. No, I’m sorry. I meant it. You should come over.”

 

Right. I doubt he actually wants that. How stupid does he think I am? And why is he keeping this charade up? I would rather he just let it go and we could get on with our lives, with pretending the other night never happened at all. But when I turn my head to tell him as much, I’m surprised at how genuine he looks. And I end up surprising my own self with my next words.

 

“Um… okay. Sure.” What? What did I just agree to?

 

Peeta’s face actually lights up, another surprise in a conversation full of them. “Cool. Great. Um… do you know where I live?”

 

I shake my head. No, of course I don’t. Why would I?

 

“Give me your number,” he tells me. “I’ll text my address to you.”

 

I guess I’m lucky enough to actually have a phone. But how else am I going to be available to Prim whenever she needs me for something? Especially with how much I work. I never intended to have this thing for texting guys, but I give him my number anyway.

 

“Great,” he says again. “I’ll, um, see you Saturday. And around here, of course,” he laughs nervously, then makes a face. “Okay, I better get back to work.”

 

“Okay,” I agree. Finnick would probably frown on all this socializing on the floor anyway. I watch him as he walks quickly away.

 

* * *

 

Saturday night, I find myself standing in front of a blue two-story beach house that’s nestled among similar houses dotted along the the sandy coast. I’ve been to this part of the beach before, though I’ve never actually been inside one of these houses: they are where the “rich” people live, those who are so well-off that they can actually afford beach-front property. Should I be this surprised that Peeta Mellark lives here? No, I really shouldn’t. Not considering who his parents are. I doubt he’s paying his own rent on this place, even if he does have a job.

 

“Your place is nice,” I tell him as he ushers me in the door.

 

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “It’s not really mine though. It’s my parents’ vacation house. I’m just staying here for college.”

 

“Oh.” It’s all I can think to say, but it sounds so pathetic. “So… what did you want to do?” For some reason, I feel nervous asking him this question. Queasy, but I can’t place why.

 

“Oh, you know. I just thought we could… chill.” He flashes me a grin, and even I can’t believe it when I hear myself let out a slight laugh when I see it. “Do you want to go out to the beach?”

 

I agree, and sit side by side with Peeta on the sand as we watch the sunset. He’s brought a sketchbook with him--it turns out he really likes to draw. Not something I would have pegged him with, but I find I actually really like watching his hands as they work, making a rendition of the scene before us bloom on the page where there had been nothing before. When it’s too dark to draw, we just sit and look at the stars for a little while before we decide to go back in

 

“What now?” I ask as he closes the door behind us. It was nice out on the beach. I don’t want to admit it, but it really was what I needed. But now I don’t know what to do. What happens from here?

 

Peeta just shrugs. “You seen ‘Stranger Things’ yet?”

 

“No.” I shake my head.

 

His eyes widen. “You haven’t?” Then he checks himself. “Wait, of course you haven’t. Well, tonight’s the night! Come on.”

 

I follow him into the TV room, where he flops on the sofa and reaches for the remote. I look around the room, trying to decide where to sit. I feel safest sitting on the armchair across the way. But then I catch myself. Safest? Safest from what? And I just know it’ll be awkward if I don’t join him on the couch. So, still feeling strangely nervous. I settle down on the opposite end.

 

He turns towards me, and I catch my breath, expecting him to comment on how far I’m still sitting from him. But instead he just smiles. “You hungry?”

 

“Oh.” I’m caught off guard. “Um, maybe. A little.”

 

“I’ll get us something, as soon as I’ve started the show.”

 

“Thanks,” I give him a small smile. Then I think of something. “But won’t you miss part of it that way?”

 

He just laughs. “I’ve seen it already,” he says. “You’re the one who hasn’t.”

 

I guess he’s right about that. As the show starts, he excuses himself to the kitchen, and comes back with an array of baked goods. I try one, a cheese bun, and immediately my eyes widen. It’s delicious.

 

“Where’s this from?” I ask.

 

He looks embarrassed. “I made it myself,” he says. “Do you like it?”

 

“You… made this?” I ask in disbelief. “It’s delicious!”

 

Peeta looks pleased. “Thanks,” he says.

 

We eat away as we watch the show, which turns out to be scarier than I thought. But it’s better than I thought, too. “I’m start to see why everyone loves this show so much,” I say.

 

He just laughs.

 

I find myself starting to relax. The show is good, the food is even better. And Peeta… I find myself growing more and more comfortable even with him, the more we relax and discuss the show. In fact, I realize, as the marathon continues, I’ve actually drifted closer and closer to him, until we’re sitting right next to each other.

 

There’s something about his essence that finally does it. Maybe it’s his scent--up close, he smells like cinnamon and dill, what must be a leftover from the baking he did today. Or maybe it’s how warm he is. But it’s enough. I’m reeled in. And the next thing I know, I’m actually leaning against him as the show reaches its final episodes, his arm wrapped protectively around me.

 

When it ends, neither of us make any move to get up, even though it’s nearly two in the morning

 

“You remind me of Nancy a bit,” Peeta tells me.

 

“What? No!” I sit up and look at him. He can’t be serious.

 

“What’s wrong with Nancy?” He looks at me in surprise.

 

“She let Barb be taken by the demogorgan to have sex with her stupid boyfriend!” I almost shout. That part left me pretty angry with her for the rest of the character, I can’t lie. “I would never do something like that!”

 

“Come on,” he teases. “You’ve never slept with a boyfriend in highschool?”

 

My cheeks go hot. I don’t even have to look at myself in the mirror to know I must be bright red. “I didn’t say that,” I say, flustered.

 

Peeta is just grinning at me. “So you have.”

 

I have only had one boyfriend in my life. That was Gale, and yes, we were in high school. And yes… we did sleep together a few times. But we broke up because I realized - we both realized - that I was forcing feelings for him that weren’t there. But he had been my best friend, and when he confessed his longtime crush on me, it only felt natural to go down that path with him. It was stupid, and if I’m honest… if I’m honest, it’s a big part of the reason I haven’t been with anyone since then. Why I haven’t even kissed another boy since I broke up with Gale. Until I kissed Peeta, the other night.  “I didn’t say that, either,” I mumble, but it’s not convincing. Indeed, Peeta just shakes his head, laughter lighting up his blue eyes.

 

“Katniss Everdeen,” he says, pretending to be surprised.

 

“What?” I snap, feeling defensive.

 

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” 

 

I freeze. I don’t even dare to breathe. Peeta has gone silent, too, and when I dare to look over, I can tell it wasn’t what he meant to say. That even he can’t believe he said it. There’s something strangely vulnerable about his expression. Our eyes meet. Lock with each other.

 

Then, before I can even register what’s happened, his lips are on mine. We break apart, and gape at each other. And then we’re kissing again.

 

I feel something stir inside. Something I’ve only felt once before. It was when we were kissing each other at the party the other night. Only now, in the privacy of this house, where it’s just us, and I know no one can interrupt us, can witness something they have no business being apart of, I feel that sensation to begin to grow. It creeps through me, warm and curious, making me want more.

 

Peeta lifts me suddenly, causing me to wrap my arms around his neck for security.  “What are you doing?” I ask.

 

“Moving us someplace better,” he mumbles. He stops at the sofa in the family room, a much more ornately decorated room than where the TV was, and deposits me, covering me with his body as he kisses me at first on the lips, then begins to trail a pattern of kiss down my neck, causing me to giggle even as I flinch away from the sensation. As Peeta lifts my shirt over my head, someplace inside of me registers that I should feel embarrassed by this, but who cares? Why should I hide anything anymore?

 

He’s dangerously low when he stops again, and looks up, shaking his head.

 

“What?” I ask for a second time, lifting my head to look down at him to try and figure out what’s making him stop when all I really want is for him to keep going.

 

Peeta doesn’t answer. He just climbs to his feet, then picks me up again. Immediately, my legs wrap around his waist while my arms do the same to his neck.

 

“It’s still not right,” he mutters.

 

What does he mean? The sofa seemed as good a place as any for this, but I can tell Peeta has something in mind, so I remain quiet and let him have his way. For now.

 

He doesn’t get any farther than the kitchen, where he places me gently down on the counter so that I’m facing him. “Is this good?” I ask as he draws back to look at me.

 

Still no response. All I see is a glimpse of his eyes in the moonlight as he leans forward and starts kissing me again. With all the moving around, I’m a bit hesitant to get too comfortable, but Peeta quickly makes me forget all of that. His large, sturdy hands slip around to my backside as he kisses me, smoothing their way upwards until they reach the band of my bra. He stops them here, playing lazily with the strap while he focuses instead on the kiss. His tongue just barely traces the outline of my lip. A shiver jolts through me at the sensation, and I involuntarily squeeze my legs tighter around him. 

 

I feel his mouth drop open as he lets out a low moan at the feeling of my legs around him; he tenses his lower half as he lurches forward. As if this inspires him, his fingers stop playing with the band of my bra. He fumbles with the clasp until he gets it. It hangs loose behind me. There’s nothing keeping it from coming off now. But he doesn’t remove the garment, not yet. He pulls back, sliding his hands back from behind me so that they come down, resting just above my elbows. His eyes lock on mine. And like that, my body is on fire.

 

Without breaking eye contact, Peeta’s hands find the straps of my bra, and slowly he pulls them down. I can tell it’s taking everything in him not to look, but his eyes remain locked on mine as I free my arms from the straps, then straighten my posture. I am now completely undressed from the waist up.

 

Finally, Peeta can stand it no longer. He lets his eyes drop. He stares at my chest for several long seconds, his only movement is from his nostrils flaring once, twice. I shift a little under his gaze--being on display like this… well, I’ve only done it a few times before now. And not once did it ever feel natural. 

 

“My god, Katniss,” Peeta finally bursts out. “What are you so afraid of? They’re beautiful!”

 

It catches me off guard. Peeta must sense it, because he manages to tear his eyes away from my hardened nipples and bring them up to my eyes, concern reflected in them. “Sorry,” he tells me, looking sheepish. “I didn’t mean to sound so-- I don’t know what I’m doing.”

 

Like that, my own apprehension melts away. A smile plays across my lips, and this time, I lean to him, taking his face in my hands and kissing him. I can tell the exact moment he finally relaxes himself, when his entire body leans in to mine. 

 

His hands come up, and cup each of my breasts. “Let’s start with something a little more familiar, hmm?” He grins at me between kisses. I laugh, until I feel this thumbs brush across each nipple. Then my laughter dissolves into indistinguishable noises, while Peeta moves to kiss my neck, massaging each of my breasts in his skilled hands as he does so.

 

“Have you done this a lot?” I ask out of nowhere. It occurs to me that, while we’ve discussed my experience before, we’ve never really explored what Peeta’s history is. I suppose I told myself it was because it didn’t matter, it shouldn’t have mattered if what we were doing was only for fun, and to relieve stress. But now I know that wasn’t true. Now I know this is about much more than that. And now that I’m here, and we’re finally being real with one another, it occurs to me that maybe it was because I didn’t want to know if he had or not.

 

“What?” His hands still; his whole body does. “Why?”

 

I give a half-hearted shrugs. “Just curious, I guess. We’ve talked about me before and all.”

 

He pulls back so that he straightens, and looks me right in the eyes. “A couple of times,” he admits. “I had a couple of girlfriends before I met you.”

 

“Oh. Okay.” It’s all I can think of to say, but it doesn’t seem like enough. I’m not really sure what to do from here--it seems that I’ve stopped the activity in its tracks. Did I derail it completely? I hope not. As much as I dislike the idea of Peeta being with other girls, I still want to be with him now. But I’m not sure how to get us back on track.

 

Fortunately, Peeta, being far better with this stuff than I could ever hope to be, does know. “Does it really matter what we did before?” He asks as he leans back in and gives me a long kiss.

 

“No,” I say when we break apart, his head resting against mine. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

He just smiles. Then he moves to my chest, and takes one breast into his mouth. His mouth is hot against my skin, and at the feel of his tongue flicking against my nipple, my head falls back as an embarrassingly loud groan escapes my mouth. But it feels so, so good having him suck on first one, then the other breast, and honestly, something about this situation itself, with me sitting here, undressed and exposing my breasts for him while he sucks on them, does something to me. I find myself bucking against him, my hands in his hair, trying to pull him even closer in.

 

Somehow, in the throes of all this, it dawns on me why I wanted to know his past experiences. “I just wanted to know how you got so good at this,” I finally gasp.

 

I can hear the grin in his voice when he answers. “I’ve just been learning how to read you,” he says. “You love being touched here. I was paying attention.”

 

Do I? Obviously I do, but somehow I never realized it myself until just now. It seems Peeta has learned my body even better than I know it myself.

 

Suddenly, I find myself wanting to know the same things about him. “What about you?” I ask. “Where do you like being touched?”

 

“I love having your hands in my hair. You’re driving me crazy,” he admits.

 

“That’s it?” I ask, surprised, but somehow not entirely convinced.

 

“Aside from the obvious,” he smirks.

 

I glance down at his waistband; Peeta follows my gaze, as if he’s reading my thoughts, and encouraging me to take that next step. So I do.

 

Lightly brushing against his warm skin, I unbuckle his jeans. I pause for a second, gathering up my courage for the next part. I know it’s a small thing, but somehow, unzipping him seems like a very bold step. But I can feel Peeta waiting for me, wanting me to do it. And so I do.

 

I can tell from the tent in his pants that he’s already hard. But, am I imagining things? Or does my unzipping his pants seem to make him grow more? I doubt I am imagining it, especially when you consider the heated way he watches me as I do this, the way he stands with his chest puffed out, his shoulders broad. Suddenly, I freeze, unsure what to do next. Do I slide his pants down myself? Do I take him out, leaving his jeans in tact? Fortunately, Peeta takes over this next step himself, and yanks them off as quickly as he can, kicking them off to one side as he steps out of them. He follows this up by yanking his shirt off and casually flinging it somewhere to the side. Then he stands before me, wearing nothing but his boxers.

 

So here we are then. About to break through the last boundary. We’ve already broken the rule of not letting anyone see anything when I let him see my breasts. I’ve felt him before, but I’ve never seen him. This will be a first. We both sense it, because for a minute we both just sit there, frozen. Then Peeta breaks the final barrier, and pulls his boxers off as well. Finally he stands before me, completely bare.

 

I drink in the sight of his, his ashen waves and blue eyes seem even more beautiful contrasted against his bare flesh. While he doesn’t have a six pack, he is still muscular everywhere, from his arms all the way down to his legs. And there, the focal point of his entire beautiful body, his penis stands, hard and straight.

 

“Peeta.” I whisper his name is I reach out and gingerly wrap my hand around him. His eyes flutter shut the second my fingers touch his warm skin, and his breathing quickens. Feeling emboldened, I spit into my hand, and begin to rub him up and down. This produces the desired effect: Peeta lets out groans practically at every stroke of my hand.

 

“Katniss,” he chokes out after a while, “You… can you- you can-- will you put me in your mouth?”

 

My hand stills as I think about his request. I’ve never given a blow job before. I try to think about why I never went down this path with Gale, but I find that it’s a thought I can’t make my mind focus on right now, not with Peeta here, right in front of me. So I slip off the counter and kneel down, taking him in my mouth. He’s hot, and tastes a bit salty. I expect to feel distracted by the thought of all the germs I must be putting in my mouth right now, but instead I realize I feel something completely different. I feel excited, and even turned on as I begin bobbing my head up and down. Now Peeta’s hands slick through my own hair, and I shiver under his touch. This must be what it felt like for him. No wonder he liked it so much.

 

“Is this what you meant?” I ask as I lick up the shaft. “By the obvious?”

 

His eyes are pressed closed and his head his thrown back in pleasure, but I can see him smiling. “There’s only one other way I’d like to be touched even more.”

 

I stop what I’m doing at his words. It seems so simple, but it was a loaded comment. Of course, I know exactly what he’s referring to, even without asking for explanation. 

 

But am I ready? Am I really ready to go there with him? I know I wasn’t thinking that far ahead when I started this. I was caught up in the moment, something I never, ever do. But Peeta got it out of me anyway. He seems skilled at getting a lot of things out of me I never thought I would find myself doing. 

 

I stand up and lock eyes with him as I wrap my arms around his neck. Then I lean in and kiss him. He’s kissing back, and I soak in every little detail my senses can pick up: the way his lips, so much more familiar than they were that first time we stupidly kissed during the party, move with my own, anticipating my every move, and every little suck he gives on my own; the way his strong arms wrap around me, holding me securely against him, and I feel safer in them than I have ever felt before; and there’s the feel of our bodies pressed against each other, skin against skin, my breasts pressed against his chest.

 

I feel myself being lifted, and immediately I wrap my legs around him as I break the kiss. At first I think he’s about to put me back on the counter, but he keeps going. Great. This again.

 

“Where are we going now?” I ask, feeling a little annoyed.

 

He smiles. “Upstairs.”

 

“Why?” I ask. What was wrong with where we were?

 

He opens the door to a room at the top of the staircase, and we enter inside. It’s too dark to see anything, but Peeta evidently knows what’s in here because he doesn’t bother to turn on the lights. Instead, in the dark, I feel myself being deposited on a soft surface, a bed. But Peeta doesn’t join me, not yet. I can hear him fumbling around in the dark for something. Then, silver light floods the room as he opens the mini blinds. And I can’t help letting out a small gasp as I look out. The dark, navy blue oceans stretches out, illuminated by the moon, bright above it, while stars pepper the surrounding sky until it stretches to the point where sky and sea meet.

 

“It’s beautiful,” I tell Peeta as he joins me on the bed.

 

He presses his forehead to mine, and in the pale moonlight, I can see his smile. “I wanted this part to be perfect,” he says as he leans in and kisses me.

 

“You didn’t need to do that,” I whisper back between kisses. But all the same, I can’t help being happy that he did. 

 

I lower down slowly, so that I’m lying on my back. Peeta echoes my movement, covering me with his body as he kisses. Our hands rise above our heads and tangle together, resting on the mattress as the kisses become more heated. 

 

I lose track of all sense of time as I become wrapped up in him. At some point, my underwear, my only remaining piece of clothing, is removed. Then Peeta is covering me, his tip at my entrance as his hot breath tickles in my ear. “Are you ready?”

 

All I can manage at this point is a nod. I hold my breath as he begins to push in, slowly, ah, so agonizingly slow, until finally he’s all the way in. Then he stops, as I breathe him in. 

 

_ Peeta. _ HIs name throbs in my mind as he moves, pushing in and pulling out artfully. It may as well be my first time, because it’s never felt this way before. Peeta is so thick, satisfying an ache in me I hadn’t even realized I’d had until he filled it. Everyone knows I’m quiet. But this causes something to unhinge inside me. I don’t even try to hold back the sounds I’m making. I know I must be moaning right into his ears, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t show it. If anything, it only serves to motivate him more, until he’s made me scream as I convulse around him. Then I just pant, my eyes closed as my heart slows down. Peeta is still inside me as I do, but I feel him twitching, and know he’s about to come. He pulls out right before he does, and climaxes on my breasts instead. Then we both lie in each other's arms, sweaty and breathing heavily, as we collect ourselves.

 

“Katniss,” Peeta says after a while, his voice still husky. “I’ve had a crush on you since I’ve met you.”

 

I burst out laughing, which is surprising given how I normally run at the slightest suggestion of emotional intimacy. But it’s so innocent, given the fact that we just had sex with each other. “I noticed,” I tell him. And now it’s my turn to look at him with a teasing grin.

 

His mouth twists into a crooked grin as his eyes meet mine. “Was that the wrong time to tell you? Are you just going to move on to the next guy now that you’ve had your way with me?” He asks.

 

I look back up at the ceiling. “No.”

 

He moves, turning on his side so that he can gather me in his arms. “We’re doing this so backwards. I know that,” he says. “Katniss, I don’t suppose… you’d… be my girlfriend?”

 

For once, I don’t feel blindsided. I do feel scared. But I feel something else, too. And I decide to trust whatever instinct it is that’s telling me to agree. “Okay.”

 

Peeta’s face lights up. “Then you’ll allow it?”

 

“I’ll allow it.” And then he kisses me until I no longer question if I’ve made the right decision or not.

 

I go to the bathroom to relieve myself. After a minute, Peeta joins me, cleaning himself off with wads of toilet paper. Then we walk back together to his bed. As I settle in next to him, he pulls me to him, so I wrap one arm around him and lay my head on his chest. He kisses my forehead. “Stay with me tonight?”

 

For a moment, I think about his. “Prim’s home alone.”

 

“She’ll be fine. She’ll understand.”

 

I’m silent, because of course he’s right. In fact, Prim would probably be thrilled if she knew what transpired here tonight. She will be thrilled, I correct myself, because eventually I’m going to have to tell her I have a boyfriend. She’s wanted this for me since Gale and I broke up.

 

“Okay,” I say. “Let me just text her.” I pull myself from his embrace and head downstairs to find my phone. I feel so exposed, being down here without anything on. If I get out of bed again, I tell myself, I need to get a sweatshirt or something from Peeta. Standing so I know I’m not in viewpoint of any windows, I hold the phone up.

 

_ Spending the night with a friend.  _ It’s bullshit, and Prim is going to know it’s bullshit. The only friend I’ve managed to make is Peeta. But I’m not about to text her that I’m spending the night with my new boyfriend, who just this morning I wasn’t even talking to. That’s a conversation I’d rather have in person.

 

As I head back upstairs, I feel my phone buzz in my hand.  _ K. Have fun. :) _

 

I just smile and shake my head as I go back into the room.

 

“What’s so funny?” Peeta grins as I climb back in beside him. 

 

“Nothing,” I say. “Just, Prim… I think she already knows. About us, I mean.”

 

He quirks an eyebrow as he wraps his arms around me. “Your feelings for me weren’t as concealed as I thought,” he says.

 

I feel my cheeks burn. “Do you have anything I can wear, if I’m spending the night?” I ask.

 

He chuckles as he climbs out of bed. He rummages in a dresser drawer until he pulls out an old wrestling shirt and tosses it to me. I tug it on as he climbs back in. As we settle down again, he says, “You could have slept naked, you know. I wouldn’t have complained.”

 

Indeed, I’m sure he wouldn’t. In fact, he’s still naked himself even now. And the truth is, I wouldn’t have minded it so much either, except that I wanted something to go downstairs. And okay, maybe I just wanted to change the subject, too.

 

“Sorry,” I say. “I think that would be taking things way too fast.”

 

He just lets out a laugh. “I’m just glad you’re here either way,” he says as he gives me a kiss. “I’ll make us breakfast in the morning.”

 

I don’t answer. All I do is smile as I curl into him, slipping into sleep enveloped in his warmth.

 

\---

 

When I wake, the other side of the bed is empty. I peek open first one eye, then another. Dimmed autumn sunlight filters in, landing on the plaid-patterned navy sheets in narrow slits. I glance over to the clock, and see it’s already close to 10 in the morning.

 

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I reach for my robe before heading downstairs. Peeta must already be up, and waiting for me downstairs. As I head into the living room, there he is, sure enough, his back turned towards me while one of his baking shows plays on TV.

 

There’s no doubt that I’m much quieter on my feet than he is. Even so, he hears me as I round the sofa and approach him. He doesn’t say a word as I sit down next to him, tucking my legs under me as I fold into him. He wraps an arm around me as I do, and kisses me on the forehead.

 

“Happy anniversary,” he says. “There’s cheese buns in the kitchen.”

 

For a second, I feel guilty. Is it our anniversary? I knew it was coming up on six months since we got together, but I hadn’t actually pinpointed what the actual date was.

 

“Don’t tell me you forgot!” He feigns hurt.

 

“Of course not,” I lie. “

 

He grins as he shakes his head. “ “, he mimics me. “You’re such a bad liar, Katniss.”

 

“All right, maybe I did forget,” I say. “Do you want to celebrate six months by breaking up with me then?”

 

He pretends to think about it. “Well… you did put up with my family when they were here for our graduation. Even my mom.” He looks sideways at me, as if he’s studying me. “No, I guess I’ll stay with you.”

 

I roll my eyes. “Don’t do me any favors.”

 

Peeta just laughs, and looks over at me. A serious look comes into his blue eyes as he looks me over. I feel a little uncomfortable, and shift. “What?”

 

Now his smile softens, and expression becomes general. “Katniss…” he starts, then stops. I raise my eyebrows, urging him to continue, whatever he was about to say.

 

He bites his lip, like he’s trying to decide what to do. Finally, he says it. “Will you marry me?”

 

It takes a second for his words to sink in. When they do, I become frozen on the spot. Did he really just ask what I think he asked? “...What?” I ask quietly.

 

He rushes to explain. “I know we haven’t been together all that long,” he says. “But when I saw you come in just now, with the TV on and you in your pajamas and this sleepy Fall Sunday morning… I already know, Katniss. This is what I want for the rest of my life.”

 

“Even though I forgot our six-month anniversary?” Of all the ways for me to respond, I kick myself for going with this. I’m so shocked, my brain is barely functioning.

 

Fortunately, he just lets out a laugh. “Yeah, even though you forgot. Just as long as you promise not to forget our wedding. If you say yes,” he adds.

 

I can’t help chuckling at him. He looks pleased with himself, but he looks at me expectantly. Urging me. “Well?” He asks.

 

Oh! Of course, I need to answer. “Yes. Yes!” 

 

He looks like he might cry at my response. My first instinct is to comfort him, but it isn’t that he’s in any kind of pain. He’s happy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Peeta this elated in the entire time that I’ve known him.

 

So instead, I lean in and give him a kiss. He responds immediately, pulling me closer as he wraps both arms firmly around me. When we break, he rests his forehead against mine, still smiling as he looks into my eyes.

 

“I love you,” he tells me.

 

I smile. It’s still uncomfortable for me to get the words out myself, but I know that right now isn’t the time to hold back. So I steel myself, both for this moment, and every moment we’ll have together in the future. Maybe even for the rest of our lives. That seems like too much to hope for, but maybe a small part of me can’t help hoping for it anyway. “I love you, too.” 

 

We celebrate with kisses and cheese buns. 


End file.
